


Tourist Skulls

by PuppetMaster55



Category: Gravity Falls, Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Gen, come along for a fun time, literally this is a fun meet at the diner, pancake breakfast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/pseuds/PuppetMaster55
Summary: The gang is on the road, and this time to a new destination: the Mystery Shack in Gravity Falls.But first, a breakfast stopover in the nearby diner.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Tourist Skulls

“Oh sweet a mystery shack! Guys let’s go!”

“Vivi,” Arthur groaned, his arm clicking and whirring as he pulled up into a sitting position. They’d been on the road, traveling across the country to supposedly the most supernatural place in North America: Gravity Falls, Oregon. Arthur and Vivi had taken turns driving during the day, and well into the night, until Lewis took the wheel to keep driving through the night. Vivi had napped in the front while Arthur and Mystery made do in the backseat. “We are not going to some tourist trap.”

“Is that so?” She got a look in her eye, a determined and stubborn look that Arthur didn’t want to deal with until after he had coffee and took his pain meds. While he wasn’t _supposed_ to sleep with the robotic arm attached, more often than not he just left it on. Taking it off and putting it on were hassles that took away from his day and really, Uncle Lance, there were more important things to do with his day than repeatedly put on and remove the roboarm (Vivi had dubbed it automail, and Arthur would’ve put it down in the blueprints had they not found out that the term was copyrighted).

“Coffee,” Arthur demanded, because he could. “ _Then_ tourist trap.”

“He has a point,” Lewis added, with an agreeing nod from Mystery. “Let’s get some food in you before you head off to somewhere with knick-knacks.”

“I will purchase all the things, Lew,” Vivi declared as she pulled into the driveway of a diner that looked like a log. “ _All the things._ ”

“Coffee,” Arthur repeated, climbing out of the van. Vivi took his bag, and she followed with Lewis. Just before entering, Lewis made sure the collar that listed Mystery as Arthur’s service dog was visible. Most places were good with pets at the table, but it never hurt. And if Arthur and Mystery enjoyed putting one over other people a bit too much, then what was the harm?

“Well howdy!” A jovial middle-aged woman with a lazy eye waved them over. “New to town? Seat yourselves!”

“Do I smell flapjacks?” Vivi asked, bouncing to the nearest empty booth. Arthur sat with Mystery on one side, Vivi on the other. Lewis followed the woman – Lazy Susan, she introduced herself as – and gave their orders at the counter. In the booth behind Arthur, a girl in a blue sweater gasped.

“Doggie!” She started to climb over the booth, trying to get at Mystery. Vivi cackled, already in love with the town. “Can I pet the dog can I can I?”

“Mabel!” Another kid – near identical, save for the blue trucker hat, lack of braces, blue vest, and being of the opposite sex – piped up, staring at Mystery like he was a mystery. The irony made Arthur smile. “I don’t think that’s a dog.”

“He’s a service dog,” Vivi answered, extending a hand over the table. She helped Mabel squeeze between Arthur and Mystery, while the old man grumbled about it being too early to deal with tourists. “Arthur’s, actually.”

“A service dog?!” Mabel gaped, stars in her eyes as she hesitantly reached out to pet Mystery.

“Are you even blind?” Mabel’s brother asked, earning a scandalized gasp from Mabel.

“Dipper!” She reached over Arthur, pulling Dipper’s hat down over his eyes. “You can’t just ask someone if they’re blind!” She paused, looking up at Arthur. “ _Are_ you blind?”

“Vivi’s the nearsighted one, not me,” Arthur replied. Vivi gestured for Dipper to join in her side, and the old man shuffled over to join their booth. A quick glance at the counter revealed that Lewis had somehow gotten into the kitchen, helping to make breakfast. “But you can call me the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

He waved with his left arm, and both twins gaped, reaching out to grab at it. Arthur held out his arm so Dipper could get a better look, and focused on their grandpa. “So you’re the grandpa, huh?”

“Wha?” The old man grunted, then snorted. “Nah, that’s Shermy. I’m the Grunkle.”

“Grunkle?” Vivi repeated, getting that glint back in her eye. “As in, great uncle?”

“Yep!” Mabel piped up. “He’s our Grunkle Stan, owner of the Mystery Shack!”

“Really?” Vivi grinned, and Arthur was grateful, so grateful when Lazy Susan brought him the biggest mug of coffee he’d ever seen. “Does this mystery shack have a gift shop?”

“Vivi no,” Arthur protested, breathing in the caffeine – or failing to. In the failure, he consoled himself by taking a sip. “You’re not buying everything in sight.”

“But souvenirs!” Vivi said. “This is the biggest supernatural nexus north of the equator and this side of the pacific, you cannot stop me from bagging all the souvenirs I will get my hands on.”

“I can and I will,” Lewis said, setting down huge plates of flapjacks. He squeezed in beside Arthur, shaking a hand at Vivi. “Now, who are these people?”

“This is Mabel, her brother Dipper, and their Grunkle Stan,” Vivi introduced, pointing to each one. Her hand lingered at Grunkle Stan, the other hand coming up to her mouth in a mock whisper. “He’s the owner of the mystery shack. We are following them back there when breakfast is done to behold the mysteries and shop the shop.”

“Don’t make me break out the budgeting abacus,” Lewis warned. “Because I will.”

“Please,” Vivi waved him off, picking up her fork and slathering butter on the flapjacks. Arthur, meanwhile, was enjoying his own plate while Mystery dug into his own stack. “I had Mystery destroy that, right Mystery?”

Mystery stopped eating flapjacks long enough to give Vivi a look, then dug back in. Vivi put a hand to her heart, agahst. “Et tu, Mystery!”

“Hold up.” Dipper held up his hands, staring them all down. “What do you mean, supernatural nexus? Do you… know about the supernatural?”

Mystery pulled out of his breakfast, giving Dipper a grin. “Well, who said we didn’t?”

Dipper nearly fell out of the booth, taking Stan with him, and Mabel got star-eyed again.

“Talking dog,” she whispered. “I must share you.”

“You’re one of those,” Stan grumbled. “So what do you call yourselves?”

Vivi pulled out her card. “We’re the Mystery Skulls. Bounty hunters, private eyes, detectives, and all around solvers of mystery.”

“She doesn’t mean me,” Mystery added, leaning to Mabel could get at the spot between his ears he loved to pet. Dipper looked starry-eyed at them.

“So you guys solve supernatural stuff, like ghosts and gremloblins and gnomes?”

“Gremloblins?” Arthur shared a look with Lewis. “We’re more ghosts and cults than… gnomes and orcs.”

“How long have you been searching?” Dipper asked. “What got you into the supernatural? Have you met the Author? Do you have a Journal? And what about Mystery – dogs don’t talk, so what is he?”

“Whoa there.” Lewis ruffled Dipper’s hat. “That’s too many questions. Most of them we’re not gonna answer.”

“We’re generally paid to find the answers, not give them,” Arthur added. Lewis handed him his meds, and he swallowed them with a gulp of coffee. “You have to be at least level seventy-five to unlock our backstory.”

“No DDND at the food table,” Vivi chastised. “We had an agreement.”

“Awww,” Arthur and Lewis bemoaned. Lewis added, “But I’m the DM, and we have to talk shop.”

“Food is more important than DDND,” Vivi replied, waving her fork dangerously. “I want to enjoy these flapjacks, not shame consume them.”

“You guys play that nerd game?” Mabel groaned, while Dipper looked interested. “Laaaaaaaaame.”

“Arthur plays for the math,” Lewis said. “I’m there for the imagination. Like that time my zombie familiar Toto killed an elder god by snapping at it’s heel.”

“The DM failed the crit roll,” Arthur explained to Dipper. “Rolled a one and the elder god died of a zombie-related infection. Our DM at the time cried, but we weren’t sure if it was from laughter or actual crying. Our group still whispers about the time Toto the zombie dog murdered the great Hotdog Froth.”

Both Dipper and Mabel laughed at that, and Arthur thought that this place wasn’t so bad after all.

In the far end of the diner, a portly man wearing a straw hat narrowed his eyes at the group. “Looks like there’s another group needing to turn a blind eye.”

“Need a refill?” Lazy Susan asked, walking up with the coffeepot in hand. Bud Gleeful grinned.

“Yes please.” His cup was refilled, and he took a sip then hissed and blew at the steaming mug. “Hot! Hot!”

“Fresh pot!” Lazy Susan called out, unknowing of Bud’s pain. “Got a steaming fresh pot of coffee for anyone wanting a refill!”


End file.
